The Match

From the echoes

Of the interstate

I locked the windows

Boarded up the shades

Then I was in the middle

Alone in the river

As we all rushed by

 

And in our rearranging

We’re the same but always changing

So I shut my eyes

 

In the silence

Of that holy cell

In all directions

I began to swell

 

It nearly did my head in

As it rose into the heavens

For it find its worth

 

And balancing the rising

My feet broke through the tiling

For to feel the earth

 

I could’ve been an artist

And I could’ve been a saint

Instead I’m gonna the match

And I’m gonna be its flame

 

And as the roots spread

Something sang so sweet

In a language

That wasn’t meant for me

 

But even if I had heard

I wouldn’t say a damn word

That’s blasphemy

 

It’s vicious and it’s vulgar

To tell ‘em what they told ya

In times like these

 

I could’ve been an artist

And I could’ve been a saint

Instead I’m gonna the match

And I’m gonna be its flame